Like the Ocean
by SeungSeiRan
Summary: Some things are just too mysterious and deep to understand. Eight Jin x Christie oneshots. The second installment of the 'Love Comes Naturally' trilogy.
1. Distraction

**Author's note: **New oneshots, new couple! Why do I like these two together? Because Xiaoyin is B-O-R-I-N-G. Reviewers are welcomed with open arms. Flamers, fuck off.

**1. Distraction**

Whether they liked him or not, one thing was absolutely certain. Jin Kazama's iron will was not something to be taken lightly. The man could move mountains if properly motivated. Perhaps even literally. Endurance, resilience, determination, patience, fortitude. These character traits combined with the inbred talent formed from latent fighting genetics had won him two Iron Fist tournaments. At his current level of training, it was safe to assume that a third win was already in his kitty.

But every reward comes with a price and his case was no different.

Six, almost seven, years of training. All for a single purpose.

To rid himself of the darkness that had plagued him from the moment he had been expelled from his mother's womb.

_Mother._

Memories. Hazy and distant during his waking hours. Clear and defined in dreams. He'd feel her smile, smell her serene warmth, and whisper things he'd never say to anyone else. Illusions, sweet illusions. The only thing pure in his life was just that, … an illusion. Echoes of discarded dreams and faded passions. They mocked his existence with hollow promises and sarcastic overtones.

And then there were the nightmares. Courtesy of the ever-present being in his system. Secrets and carnage. Innocent blood staining his hands. The unmistakable stench of sin. Voices only he could hear and fear. Devouring his fading humanity. Shredding away at his own will to live. A seemingly never-ending war within him. And he knew there were never any victors in wars. Only victims.

All he could do now was at least attempt to live. He'd fight his way through each tournament and opponent in his way, avoid any casual interaction with over-zealous fans and rivals, destroy the Mishima bloodline and then,…

Perhaps his life _was _a complete waste after all.

The youth allowed himself a sigh. Sighs were like smiles to him. Rare, small, and kept secret from the world. Haha, how absolutely _droll_. Welcome to the black and blue world of a born realist. Or pessimist if you wish to be so rude.

Ow, his head hurt when he got all philosophically depressed like that. A few hours of training would have to subdue that errant humming in his psyche…

He suddenly froze in his tracks at the sight before him.

_Where on earth did_ she_ come from?_

Wasn't this _his_ spot anyway? Shady, green, under the old oak-tree, far away from Hwoarang and Xiaoyu? Yes, it was. Well, she'd have to find someplace else to practice. He'd already come this close to another violent altercation with the Korean, put up with his pig-tailed friend's airy chit-chat for an hour, and to top it off, almost been run over by that lovesick sumo-wrestler on his mad dash to the florist. Jin was definitely in no mood to be his polite, gentlemanly self and allow her to share. How was one supposed to concentrate with her limbs flailing about and her hair swishing in his face?

She turned around and gave him a cheerful wave.

Oh no,… she was one of the better-looking ones.

He muttered an incoherent apology and took his leave.

The gym would have to do.

* * *

He next met her at the hotel lobby. She greeted him with the same cheery wave and grin. He nodded politely in reply.

He managed to finally recall her name just then. Christie. Christie Monteiro. She'd been in the fourth tournament too. Brazilian Capoeira master.

Of course, he had nothing against her.

He just wished she'd just wear some _actual _clothes for once. Yeesh.

He didn't like the way those teenage boys stood drooling over her as she walked by them.

A certain 'look' from his direction got rid of that problem.

* * *

Was it his imagination or were he and Christie actually bound together by some invisible magic rubber-band? This was the third time he'd seen her in one week. No matter how much he tried to distance himself from others, she was the one person he kept on … 'snapping' back to.

He glared at her from across the bar. Not that she noticed him anyway. She was too busy laughing and joking with that blond British guy in the corner. Hmph, he should have known that she was _that _kind. Women…

"What? Can't a girl have a funny moment with another guy?"

He instinctively stiffened in his seat at the voice. However, the tone was too sultry and feminine to be Devil's …

"Beware of the green-eyed monster, m'lord." The Irishwoman looked highly amused at his non-plussed expression.

"It's from _Othello_. You know, by Shakespeare?", she offered as explanation as she delicately flicked a piece of lint off her red quipao. When she noticed that Jin still looked at her the same, she was aghast.

"What?! Do you not believe that I studied drama in college? Why does everybody have to assume that all beautiful women are airheads?!"

"No! I … I just … didn't quite get you." He spoke up lamely.

"Oh," she purred, obviously relieved, "That's it then?"

"Yes. About … green-eyed monsters." Hell, he didn't need any more monsters troubling him. The red-eyed ones were already doing their job.

"To put it in a nut-shell," Anna paused for dramatic effect, "You're jealous."

_Eh?_

He almost spat out his drink. "J-jealous?! Of whom?"

The brunette motioned gleefully at the Brazilian girl and her companion.

Jin began to splutter. "It's not what you think – "

"Pish-tush, you're too serious for your age." She muttered as she began to retouch her lip-gloss. "After all, everyone needs a distraction once in a while."

_Distraction._

Yes, that was what she was. An annoying distraction. All skimpy outfits and playful smiles. Temptations sweeter than chocolate. Laughter as soothing as waves in a sea-shell. The apples of her cheeks glowed with her warmth. Her smile sometimes reaches her eyes. Sometimes, they turned serious like a wave had hit. Maybe, she wasn't as shallow as she looked …

She stretched as she stood up. He noticed how long and tanned her legs were. Her shirt shifted a little so that part of her toned stomach was revealed. He watched her dance.

_Kami-sama,_ _she's beautiful._

Grace and power. Strength and agility. Pleasure and pain.

A minute wouldn't hurt.

Perhaps two.

Five minutes.

_Ten_ would be his absolute maximum.

It was fifteen minutes before Jin realized how turned on he was.


	2. Viewfinder

**Author's note:** I've been checking out a few other Christie fics and one thing most of them have in common is; she loves to dance. Now while I have nothing personal against dancing, I just thought Christie needed a new hobby.

**2. View-finder**

There is a certain level of enchantment one feels whilst developing a photograph.

Huddled in the quiet of the dark-room, she watched those still moments of life captured on film finally take on a new meaning of their own. Most people saw the world in shades of black, white and grey. Hence, those were the colours she shot them in.

Black. White. Grey.

Pensive, even depressing to some.

However, the thing about a lack of colour is its compensation. A melancholy winter sunset. The lines and grooves etched on her grandfather's weathered, kindly face. The white softness of a baby's translucent skin. Silvery snowflakes on black concrete. Each of them with their own story. No distractions from gaudy types of reds, oranges, and pinks. No sparkle, dazzle, or razzmatazz. Just tales of hopes, desires, memories and secret dreams. And perhaps just a touch of darkness and angst.

A picture is worth a thousand words.

And some faces are worth a thousand pictures.

* * *

Today was one of those days where the sun played hide-and-seek behind the clouds. What did you call those fat, puffy ones? Nimbus, cirrus, homunculus. She gave up. Geography had never been one of her strong subjects. But she was still an ace behind the lens.

Boys sure grew tall nowadays. The shortest one on the basket-ball court was probably around five foot eleven. She felt like a flea amongst a sea of giants. Moreover, they were in a middle of an aggressive game of street 'hoops'. The Vitamin C drinks kept on flowing alongside the sweat, adrenalin, and testosterone. Loud rap music blared from an old-school boom-box. The expletive-laced verses soon became interspersed with the cries of encouragement and raucous taunts.

Hardcore? Definitely.

Was Christie up for a challenge? Hell yeah.

Like an archer wields his bow, she picks up her camera.

She zoomed into the picture before her. The tiny beads of sweat rolling off bronzed skin, muscles tensing and relaxing in an animalistic rhythm, the dust clouds forming where the orange ball struck the surface of the asphalt. Yes, that's it, _that's it_. Capture the youth and passion while it lasts…

Click, click, click away.

Capture those moments before they're lost forever …

But some faces are worth a thousand moments.

On that green bench. Dark eyes and long, silky bangs. It's all she can see behind those long, calloused fingers.

She zoomed onto him. Trying to extract the secrets from the lair. He doesn't seem to care. Or notice.

It's just him and her. Black and white.

He lets his hands slump forward, revealing his face. She discreetly presses the little button, sealing that look in his eyes for an eternity.

He doesn't care.

* * *

The photo was ready.

Using a pair of metal tongs, she carefully lifted it up from the tray and pegged it into a place on a line place for the purpose.

Later that night, she curled up on her sofa with it.

With his chiseled, aristocratic features and spiky, obsidian locks, he was definitely the most physically attractive, if not the most interesting, subject she had photographed. She couldn't even break her gaze away from his. Heh, how silly she was acting. It was almost like high-school again.

She drifted away to sleep in those eyes.

Those deep, dark eyes…

_Sweet dreams, my love._

_What secrets lie behind your façade?_

* * *

He wasn't there the next day.

That annoyed her.

Of course, she had no right to be. What and where a stranger chose to do with his brooding was none of her business. Even if it _was_ a tall, dark, and extremely handsome stranger.

At least, that was what she told herself.

Too bad she still felt annoyed.

"Hello."

That was like the 'BANG!' of a starting-pistol for her heart to begin racing. She gave the smallest of double-takes before returning a cordial "Hi."

Silence.

He wore a casual black suit with a white shirt underneath. She wore a white pinafore dress with a black shirt beneath.

He was leaning against a tree. She was standing next to a pile of withered leaves.

He wasn't smiling. She wasn't sure if she should.

Silence is loud.

She would have to break it.

"I'm Christie."

"Jin."

_What to say now?_

"You were here yesterday."

That caught her unawares. He'd noticed her?

"Yeah," she hurriedly pulled out the picture, "Here, uh, I took this. Of you."

He silently took the photo from her outstretched hand. She fought the urge to bite her nails as he examined it.

"It's pretty good."

"Thanks."

"Better than mine."

_Huh?_

"Y-yours?"

A tiny flicker of a smile flew across Jin's face as he pulled out a razor-thin camera phone. With a tap of a few buttons, it displayed a crystal-clear image of her. Packing up her camera, her hair swept up and over one side of her head. She didn't know whether to be flattered or alarmed. Seeing her expression, he sheepishly put the phone back in his pocket.

"Forgive me, I had no right to – "

"No, _I _shouldn't have – "

They'd both begun to apologize at the same time. Christie began to giggle at their efforts. He reminded her of a lonely little puppy-dog.

"I guess we've both invaded each other's privacy. But you looked so sad that day – " Shit. Open mouth, insert foot. Just like you, Christie. Good job.

"Sor – "

"It's okay." He sighed as he ran his fingers through his hair. "I guess it was just … one of those days."

One of those days. When the sun and moon merge into one hazy blur. Your coffee is too bitter and your shower too hot. So hot that it scalds you. You just want to be miserable. Yet no one allows you the luxury of feeling so. They force you on with their fake, happy smiles and tinny laughter. You want to tell them to shut up and go away but you smile politely and nod your head. All the while, the pressure builds up inside, that inner noise getting louder. Your reservoir of patience gives out and your emotions flood. But no one knows because you hide it all. Tucked away, never to be seen.

This much and more he hoped to hide.

She could tell.

"You don't have to talk about it."

Should he have felt anger or relief at that? But it was confusion that won as she extended her hand once more.

"Walk with me."

Three words. A little ray of hope. He decides to give in.

Her skin feels smooth. Smells like soap. Loose hair. Kind smile. Simple gestures. But that was fine with him.

He'd had enough of blinding rainbows anyway.

As he keeps in step with her, she wonders.

If a face is worth a thousand pictures, how many pictures are worth a single emotion?


	3. Wishful

**Author's note:** Sorry, I suck at writing fight scenes. But I hope you guys still enjoy it. When I finished writing it, it sorta reminded me of a certain oneshot in 'Like the Sky'. Try guessing which one ;)

**3. Wishful**

Sunshine is best viewed and felt after a cold spell. It feels nice for a change. Until it starts to burn.

Yes, there are many things which are best experienced from a distance. It was sometimes better to be the one on the outside of the glass bowl looking in. To live life on his own suited him just fine. He didn't have to necessarily like it but he didn't have to worry about whether others did either.

Because everyone thinks Jin Kazama is a boring, one-dimensional stick-in-the-mud with a boulder-sized chip on his shoulder. His grandfather and father view him as a threat to their own individual plans. Ling Xiaoyu and Miharu Hirano fantasize about him being their dark, tragic hero 'just waiting to be saved'. There are a handful of fighters like Wang Jinrei who just consider him to be a strong and worthy opponent. Nothing more, nothing less. And then, there are others like Hwoarang who think of him as an asshole. That, he could have possibly done without.

Shards of ice and vapours of emotion. They melt and condense off him. They call him 'cold and heartless'. He sighs and walks away. They compare him to his father.

And that's what gets him.

Sunshine is best viewed as streams and droplets. Anything more harsh infuriates him.

He has a temper. A strong sense of mental composure usually keeps it in check. The excess is taken out on a defenseless punching-bag. So much for calm, peaceful Jin Kazama…

The green leaves were a perfect filter for the pale, golden light. The latter greeted him, gently showering him with affection. Bear-hugs and sloppy kisses weren't his style, thank you very much. Tree-filtered sunlight almost reminded him of his mother. Almost. From a certain angle, in a particular light, he almost resembled her in appearance. That in itself was a great comfort to him.

He felt quite lazy as he lay sprawled under the tree. In a good way though. In spite of his cursed lineage, he was still mostly human and, therefore, entitled to bit of rest. It was normally at this point where he'd drift off into a heat-induced slumber. Filled with visions of water-falls and log-houses, the scent of wet earth permeating the air, the sweet bird-song in its distinct melody,…

But he couldn't.

And for once, it wasn't because of the Devil lurking in his mind.

* * *

_He struck his fist out, aiming for the opponent's head._

_She parried._

_He got into an upright position and then, using his left foot as a centre, he swung his right leg in a perfect roundhouse._

_She dodged._

_Using his loss of momentum to her advantage, she grabbed him round the shoulders. She then leapt over him, trapping his head between her ankles and using them to slam him into the ground._

_He rolled away before she could get him with her sweep kick. He only just managed to the block the barrage of punches and kicks which immediately followed._

_With the last hit of her combo complete, the Capoeira master began to change her position._

_He saw his chance._

_Quickly warming up, he let loose his own array of quick, powerful strikes. Completely taken by surprise, she had no chance to resist._

_The result? A few minutes later, she crumpled to the ground. _

"_Jin Kazama wins."_

_As he readjusted his gloves, he glanced at where the girl, Christie, lay. She grimaced as she attempted to rise to her feet._

"_It's okay," she said as she took note of him, "I've been through worse."_

_It was a little comical as she soon fell back on her rear after saying so. Perhaps it was a good thing that their match had taken place in a garden. That grass looked nice and soft._

"_Define 'okay'."_

_Her cheeks reddened at his statement. They deepened further when she was lifted by the arm so that she was standing. When a different, more muscled arm was placed around and under her own two for support, she was just a shade away from pure crimson._

"_You don't have to – " she protested. He just shrugged in response as they began to move._

* * *

She had been a cheeky one. He still remembered what she'd said to him when they'd reached her hotel room.

"_Thanks for not grabbing my ass."_

Delivered with a wink and a flying kiss as well. Tease.

He stirred uncomfortably at the memory. In other mood, in another time, he would have been more than happy to do _that_. It would have come as a surprise to most people if they had known what went on in his mind at times. Sure, he didn't keep a hidden stash of porn under his bed but he wasn't as asexual as he was thought to be.

Jin could appreciate beauty.

Christie was a pretty name.

Only three people had seen them together that night. Paul Phoenix had roared with laughter, patted him roughly on the back, and congratulated him on the fact that he was 'finally getting some action'. He'd had a tough time explaining himself out of that situation. Bruce Irvin had glared at him in envy. Xiaoyu had stormed off into her room. According to some sources, she'd called Christie… a lot of 'unsavory' names the next day.

He could appreciate the way that Christie allowed herself to be as cheerful as she liked without being irritating or clingy.

It had been a nice change.

* * *

"_What are you doing here?"_

"_Wishing you good luck."_

_She was dressed more modestly this time. Jeans and a long white halter-top._

"_Thank you. You shouldn't have…" he faltered._

"_I wanted to."_

_She had nice eyes. The colour of milky coffee. Her hair was tied back so he could admire those high cheek-bones and bronze cheeks._

"_Be careful."_

_Her eye-lashes were nice and long._

"_Don't push yourself too hard."_

_Her lips tasted like brown sugar._

* * *

Great. Now he felt guilty for running away like that.

_Jin Kazama, you're an idiot._

He leaned back against the grass with a sigh. Just him and the droplets of sunshine…

Wishful thinking again.

But … wait a second…

There was someone up in the tree.

"Hi, Jin."

She was sprawled on a thick branch like a cat. Adorning a sad smile which tore at his heart.

"Christie…"

All he could do was reach out to her. Reach out like he had never done to anyone before his mother. Wipe away those tears, take the pain away. Don't cry …

_I'm sorry, so sorry._

The tips of their fingers touched. A tear splashed onto his cheek. But she was still smiling as their fingers entangled. Playfully, a bit like love-making.

And he wouldn't have had it any other way.


	4. Invalid

**Author's note:** I've always said that Christie and Jin would make one smexy couple. (Evil Grin). So let's kick it up another level, shall we?

**4. Invalid**

It's amazing how something as simple as a common cold can bring your mood down to ground level. And when it mutates into a case of influenza, you'd better start digging that hole so you can fill it with your sorrow and wallow in it. Toss in two annoying room-mates and you're all set to burst into tears.

Of course, being a member of the male sex automatically exempts you from that last privilege. All Jin could do was roll over onto his stomach, stuff his fingers in his ears, and curse Hwoarang's passion for rock bands which specialized in screaming out their lyrics. Having separate rooms wouldn't compensate for all those snarls, screams, and other jibberish that somehow passed for music. He already hated Limp Bizkit at normal volume. It was only natural that he absolutely _despised _them at their maximum. He silently told the red-head off as he curled up beneath the comforter.

The tea Steve had brought him was grew cold as it lay ignored on the side-table. Typical Brit. When in sickness, pour the tea. Stupid blond, why couldn't he try his own concoctions for once? Still, he was more tolerable than Hwoarang on most days…

Mercifully, the music stopped just then. Perhaps, the Korean had had his fix. Or even better, had the stereo broken down again?

Jin settled down to sleep once again. It was quite cozy really. Nice …

* * *

_Ding-dong._

The door-bell. Well, _he _wasn't going to the one to answer it.

_Ding-dong._

One of the others would have to do it.

_Ding-dong._

Where the hell were those two anyway?!

_Ding-dong._

Swearing violently, he dragged himself out of the comfort of his bed. Damn Xiaoyu, she couldn't take a hint. He didn't need another goddamn box of candy or a bouquet of flowers. He just wanted a friggin' nap, what the FUCK was so difficult to understand about that?!

That's it, no more Mr. Nice Guy. There were times when you had to be cruel to be kind …

_Get. Lost._

The words sounded surprisingly good on his tongue.

Now all he had to do was fling that door open and say …

_Oh._

_My._

_God._

Christie Monteiro. Yellow sun-dress. Strapless. Bare shoulders. All smiles.

And him in his blue t-shirt and grey boxers. Crap.

"G'morning, Jin."

He tried to speak and ended up coughing in reply. She gave him a look of surprised concern.

"Gosh, you _are _sick."

Was this some prank that Hwoarang and Steve had cooked up? If it was, it was a pretty sick one to pull on a sick man …

He caught a whiff of her perfume as she breezed past him. Mm, summery. Fresh and clean too.

Clean? Holy shit, when was the last time this apartment had been clean and tidy?!

Well it didn't look too bad. The three of them had worked wonders the day before when Steve's mother had announced she was paying a visit. Now all he had to do was shove that pile of laundry out of sight, hide those various comics, mangas, and _Girls, Girls, Girls_ magazines, and hope she didn't notice that pile of greasy plates in the sink. If only he could manage all that without succumbing to that nudging pain at his temples. Ouch, not a chance.

Oh no, she was picking up one of the magazines.

"Aww, what's the matter?" she mocked him as she leafed through the racy photos. "Three cute boys like you can't get any real women so you use _these _for inspiration?"

"They're not mine." He managed to get out before another coughing fit took over. Christie's tone immediately switched from sarcasm to sympathy.

"You poor guy. Here," she took him by the arm and sat him down on the sofa. "Just try and relax while I fix you something."

Jin couldn't help noticing how low-cut that dress was.

"Jin, are you okay? You look kinda pale."

She leaned forward to feel his forehead. Unfortunately, she exposed a bit of her cleavage as well. Jin's pale face soon turned scarlet as she felt his throat next. He drew his knees up to his chin as soon as she released him so that she wouldn't notice _how _much he had liked that little display. Thankfully, she vanished into the kitchen before he could explode on further physical interaction.

Where were those two when he needed them most?

Christie reappeared soon. Juggling an … orange?

"Vitamin C's supposed to be good for you when you have a cold." She stated matter-of-factly.

In seemingly no time at all, the fruit was peeled and segmented before his very eyes.

"Open your mouth."

"What?!"

"How else am I going to feed you then?"

"Who said – " Too late. The orange slice had already been popped into his mouth. The tangy flavor splashed over his tongue.

"See, that wasn't so bad."

The next slice was half-way through his mouth before her hand froze. He wasn't too sure about that sly smile on her face.

"I'd like some of that too."

"Mmphf?"

She took a bite of the segment between his teeth. For one tentative second, her lips had come dangerously close to brushing his before withdrawing. The Japanese gulped and swallowed his half whole.

"You got a bit of juice there."

Before he could protest, she'd flicked out her tongue and licked off the residue from his chin.

He fell back panting as she mischievously licked her lips.

"Not bad. Not bad at all."

She strolled off into the kitchen once more, her auburn hair glistening in the sunlight. But not before sending him a casual wink.

That did it. He wouldn't let her get away this time. Invalid or not, he still had a libido.

It was Christie's turn to gape as she found herself pinned to the table by an overly-excited Jin. Their eyes met. All they saw were dark, hazy clouds of desire …

He traced the curves around her hips as he lowered his own lips to meet hers.

And then,…

He woke up.

* * *

"Damn stereo." Hwoarang muttered as he dealt the said machine another thump.

"Hwoarang," Steve interrupted as he entered the room. "I'm worried about Jin. He's acting rather strange."

"That's because he _is _strange."

The blond pointed to Jin's room in reply. His interest roused, the Korean cracked the door open.

His rival was too busy pounding his mattress in a rage to notice his arrival.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!"

Hwoarang shuddered as he closed the door. This was the first time he'd heard the Japanese swear so much in one go. He turned to his friend.

"Okay, you're right. He's more messed up than usual today."

"He needs help."

"You bet." Hwoarang agreed as he picked up the cordless phone. "What's the mental asylum's number?"

He received a smack on the head as an answer.

"Not _that _help. I just meant that he's stressed."

They both flinched as the sound of ceramic hitting concrete reverberated through the apartment. Hwoarang sighed in disgust.

"Seriously Steve, that guy needs to get laid."

"Yeah."


	5. Forbidden

**Author's note:** Boy, I sure know how Jin felt in the last chapter now. I seem to have caught whatever I inflicted on him. Guess that serves me right. Anyways, sorry if this chapter sucks. Not exactly the most dark, but not really that cheerful either.

**5. Forbidden**

There are things that they assume a girl like her would do. Things that she, in fact, would never do.

Like toy around with him, rip out his heart, and step on it.

Anything but that.

But what else can she do except ignore them? Just let the comments and let-downs roll off her back.

"_Let it go, Christie. You know who you are."_

Thanks, Eddy. Thanks, Julia. But it still doesn't make it feel any better. She was only human after all.

However, there are things she'd never _ever_ even _think_ of doing.

Like stealing. Anything.

Let alone someone else's man.

* * *

"He is _so _hot! I mean, did you see his bod? And – "

Natter, natter, natter. The petite Chinese girl could go on forever about the never-ending merits of Jin Kazama. His dashing good looks, his polite charm, his superior intellect, et cetera, et cetera, at cetera. It was quite amusing, really. Except when it was repeated round-the-clock for about the eighth time in two days. Like a pink piece of used bubble-gum, the gushing thrill of 'romance' had lost its flavor. It was a wonder she put up with it in the first place.

Christie stifled a yawn.

_So, what was the big deal anyway?_

Xiaoyu had once again lost her heart and mind to another pretty boy. She'd swoon over him for a few weeks at most until the next one came along.

One problem though.

For once, Xiaoyu was right about 'him'. He was everything she made him out to be.

And much more.

* * *

No doubt about it. Christie was attracted to Jin. Unfortunately, so was Xiaoyu. Therefore, the older girl decided to back off for the moment. Albeit, reluctantly.

Not the easiest thing to do. And she secretly blamed him for that.

It wasn't fair. She should hate him for doing this to her. But she can't.

He is the epitome of that clichéd and over-used phrase, 'tall, dark, and handsome'. He wears that air of mystery like a mantle. Attentive yet aloof. With just a _hint _of sarcasm.

Different. Different is good. No, no, different is bad! It is dangerous and troublesome. Something she could do without. But why does different have to feel so … very achingly … good? For a change?

A sharp kick to the head sent her back to reality.

"Jeez, Christie! Are you sure you had breakfast this morning? Sure seems like you could use the extra nutrition for staying awake." Chastised her friend and mentor Eddy Gordo. She retaliated with a drowsy roundhouse which was effectively dodged. Damn Jin, it was all _his_ fault that she couldn't get any sleep. Losing herself in those dark brown orbs, that jerk …

"Hello?" Eddy snapped his fingers in front of her face. "You mind telling me what's on your mind?"

"It's nothing."

"Nothing's always something."

She sighed. She might as well just spill the beans before Eddy would take his pestering to a new level. He was too persistent for her own good.

"I met a guy."

A look of relief crossed her master's face. "Well, good for you then. But what's so special about him which makes you zone out during practice sessions? I mean, you're usually so focused."

_Good question._

"He's already seeing someone."

"Damn."

"I agree."

* * *

Why, oh why, does Xiaoyu have to tag along wherever he goes? Why, oh why, did they have to cross paths ever so often? Why, _oh why_, does love have to be so cruel?

She gets a tingle when their eyes meet. They both look away.

Valentine's Day arrives in a shock of cheesy cards, red roses of varying shades, and plastic cupids on display. Xiaoyu shows off the bracelet that… _he _got for her. Christie can't even bear to think of his name let alone speak it out loud.

All in all, she received seven cards. Julia got four, not counting the large, effusive one from Ganryu which Hwoarang shredded to pieces. Even Paul Phoenix received a particularly saucy letter from Anna Williams, proclaiming her 'undying affection' for him. He'd confronted the Irishwoman in his best (and ugliest) suit and after-shave. She'd sent him off with a slap to the cheek and a haughty retort. On further investigation, it was revealed that the so-called 'letter of love' was the product of a collaborative team comprising Steve Fox, Asuka Kazama, and Forrest Law.

An eventful, if not fulfilling, day.

And then came the bouquet of wild orchids.

Fragrant, under-stated elegance.

There was no card attached. It was anonymous.

There is a certain effect of hope which keeps you going. Even if it is after something you don't deserve…

* * *

She'd had enough. The envy was killing her.

_What does he see in her?_

"Her personality?" offered Eddy.

"It's the 'cute' factor." Agreed Julia.

"Maybe he's got a pig-tail fetish." Stated Steve.

"Beats me," replied Hwoarang. "Maybe Kazama actually _wants_ to be mistaken for a pedophile."

Christie ignored that last comment.

* * *

She had to hand it to Julia. The girl was the best friend she could ask for. The poor thing hated night-clubs with a vengeance yet, here she was, treating her to a night on the town. It was good to know that someone didn't think she was a bitch for wanting to steal Xiaoyu's boyfriend. Too bad it didn't help matters.

In a way, she envied Julia. Always the sweet girl-next-door, willing to go to any lengths for those she cared about. She had a tough side too but the general perception was of a girl who had strong ethical morals and beliefs. Julia would never steal a guy, would she? It just wasn't expected. She was lucky. She'd never had to endure sly glances from men interested in one-night stands and kinky sexual antics. The women were the worst ones though. The malicious gossip and whispers behind Christie's back about her apparently 'loose' reputation were insufferable.

She literally grinned and bore it. She'd be the usual laughing, happy-go-lucky Christie. The life of the party. Until she made her way home and broke down crying on her bed.

Contrary to popular belief, it wasn't easy being Christie Monteiro.

She needed some air. She was sure Julia wouldn't mind some time alone with a certain red-head anyway.

* * *

"Jin?"

"Christie?"

God, she hated awkward silences.

"Couldn't take the heat?" It was a light-hearted attempt at comedy.

"I'm not really a party animal." She'd thought as much. Hadn't Xiaoyu? After all, wasn't she his girlfriend? Sheesh.

The gentle murmuring of the nearby ocean had a soothing effect on her. The sea breeze rustled her hair, shaking out some strands from her chignon. She let out a laugh as she inhaled the salty air. It reminded her of the white beaches of Brazil…

She felt his eyes on her and was subdued once more.

_Here we go again._

"How deep is it out there?"

_Good question._

"Very."

Had she given enough away? She hoped so. She hoped not.

"Sounds dangerous."

"Perhaps."

She hoped so. She hoped not.

He was _so _close. Warm breath, jet-black bangs, bottomless eyes. Those eyes…

"Do you…"

_Yes. No. Yes. No._

Searing kisses. Straight into their souls. Quivering intakes of air in between. Increasingly ragged breathing. Shared heat.

"Don't worry, – "

He slipped the straps of her dress off her shoulder.

" – I won't let them judge you."

She let her hands wander under his shirt.

"It's not right."

"Shhh.."

It was the wrong time to protest. But it didn't matter as they both sank down onto the moonlit sand.

Leave behind the pain of judgment. Let my hands soothe your wounded soul. Let my voice soften your fall. Let my arms protect you from the cold ice shards of insults and mockery. Don't listen to them, don't pay heed to those whispers in the dark. Just close your eyes …

… and let my love wash over you.


	6. Tears

**Author's note:** In the past two oneshots, Jin has had suggestive dreams as well as cheated on Xiaoyu with Christie. Goodness, he's turning into Hwoarang isn't he? LOL! But as much as I love bad-ass Jin, I think the emo version needs to make an appearance. Just this once.** New poll up!**

**6. Tears**

It has been six years, two months, and four weeks since Jin Kazama last shed a tear. That last occasion had been that of his mother's first death anniversary. A few salty drops at most. In private.

For him, they are a waste of time as well as a sign of weakness. Spilt milk should not be wept over. It should be mopped up and the rag properly disposed of. Time, being metaphysical, cannot be reversed. No matter what other less realistic people thought. Men weren't meant to fly without wings. Any attempts to do so usually resulted in falls from great heights and, eventually, plenty of broken bones and spirits. He, for one, felt safer on natural flat ground.

Feelings and emotions confuse and scare him. He has no time for such trivial matters nowadays._ Time_ is of the essence. Every day was a fight to maintain his sanity and humanity. It was not enjoyable. Rather, it pained him more than anything else did. But pain is weakness. So, he buries himself beneath his stone shell. Hollow and alone.

Perhaps some people are just meant to live life below the surface. That's what he assumes.

He can't help but feel jealousy as they walk past him, living out their simple lives, the hardest decision to make being what would constitute next morning's breakfast. They walk onwards, to welcome homes filled with cushiony furniture, loving spouses, laughing children, and slobbery dogs. He'd always wanted a Siberian Husky for himself as a kid. They lived their lives in blissful peace without the fear of succumbing to any evil presence within them.

Visions such as these should bring tears to his eyes. But they don't because Jin has forgotten how to cry. Or as a matter of fact, even laugh or smile like he meant it.

The soundless chuckles he produces are obligatory in exchange for silly jokes. The tiny smiles are quickly erased and wiped off from existence.

Back in high-school, it was the ambition of almost every female student to make the highly polite yet enigmatic Mishima scion 'bubble with mirth' (whatever that meant). Of course, he refused to be viewed as another pretty girl's catch. Their efforts had been in vain. The women around him are still the same. There are times when he feels a smidgeon of pity at their own worthless attempts. If he were any more like his father, he would have laughed cruelly behind their backs.

And there is one who doesn't have to try.

It just came naturally with her.

Every cynic needs a free spirit to unlock his heart and set loose his emotions. Just like every lost soul needs an angel to guide him.

Christie would smile and laugh as the rest of them had. The enchantment lay in why and how she did it. She was happy because she could see the light above, no matter how deep the sorrow. She laughed because she felt happy for others. Flitting in and out of his aura. Like a humming-bird. Like a butterfly. And he knew better than to imprison either of them.

So he watched her fly. Wishing he could too.

She'd soar with the breeze. Sending down messages only he understood. She'd come back to earth and tell him stories of white sands and palm-trees. Where the waves grew to be as big as the mountains and the sun always shone down on the tanned, healthy denizens. And when night fell, the stars would arrive with their own stories of Orion's belt and the Dog Star, Sirius. Pure, simple tales which he could understand and relate to.

In an odd sort of way, she became Paradise to him. Heavenly beings and eternal light.

But a Devil does not belong in Paradise.

In Hell should he burn for his sin of having been brought to life.

But it is a warrior's nature to rebel. He leaves the dark for the light of her springs. Like ambrosia to the gods, she is to him.

For a moment, he can forget that he is cursed with eternal damnation. In those brief moments, he is a mere man, she is a woman, and they are in love. It is not said, uttered in passion, or even whispered because it lives. And it lives because… it is.

The sun sets in a blaze of bloody reds and tempestuous oranges. He begins to worry as the day has ended and darkness is about to fall.

In his experiences, nothing good arises from darkness. The night is a temptation for creatures with hearts as black as the sky. It is their cover for acts so unspeakable that he can bear not to think of them.

He watches the last traces of light disappear.

* * *

The creature's long black wings eclipse the full moon as they are spread out in a rage. Its roar echoes throughout the stillness of the night. His senses are heightened. He can smell the blood spilt from his other form's initial encounter with the unfortunate members of the Mishima Zaibatsu Special Forces team.

Twenty men, all dead or dying by this monster's claws. And there is nothing he can do about it.

It raises his hand and prepares to strike once more.

It would have done so. Except that Jin would never allow it.

Not while Christie was clutching its arm.

"Jin!"

She was no match for the Devil within him, no doubt. He wanted to cry out when he felt the demon slam her into a nearby wall.

Remarkably, she held on.

"Jin, please…" her voice choked like she was sobbing.

He wanted to scream when she was smashed against the same stone wall again.

Her resilience pained him. Her body was battered and bruised yet she still reached out to him.

She was then thrown in the opposite direction.

It would have proved fatal had she not held on.

"Jin," she whispered, "Come back to me…"

He felt her tears. He began to break free of the Devil's grip on him. The creature roared in rage at its entrapment. The tattoo-like markings began to disappear, the wings began to recede…

With a heavy gasp, Jin Kazama collapsed to the ground. Were it not for his own breathing, the silence would have burdened him further.

"Forgive me." It was all he could say.

"I won't."

With a heavy heart, he let his head sink down. Of course, what else could he have expected?

"I can't forgive you."

To his surprise, she raised him up slightly so that she could place her arms around his shoulders.

"Because I never blamed you."

_I never blamed you._

It had been so long since his eyes had moistened like they did now. The tears streamed their way down his cheeks onto her shoulder where he rested his weary head.

For the first time in years, he could cry.

He could never say anything about the girls who tried to make him laugh. But what could he say of the one who brought tears to his eyes?


	7. Daydream

**Author's note:** I'm so totally in love with my new avatar right now! Hehe, random. Okay, this one's not really that good or long but reviews are still appreciated nonetheless.

**7. Daydream**

The flat stone skimmed across the surface of the lake, sending out ripples which broke up the scene reflected above it. The second one which followed sank miserably without a trace.

"You should have used a flatter stone."

"Couldn't you have told me that _before _I threw it?"

"Sorry."

Christie watched in amazement as the Japanese sent yet another pebble skimming perfectly across the water. Jin gazed at the little flecks of scattered water in satisfaction as his companion clapped her hands in delight.

"I guess it's all in the practicing, isn't it?" she looked up expectantly at him as she said this.

"Mm."

Typical Jin. All mystery in monosyllables. Oh well, everyone has their odd quirks. It was a part of who he was.

Then again, who _is_ Jin Kazama?

She loved the light of surprise in his eyes as she pulled him down beside him.

"What – "

"Lie down for a while."

He awkwardly did so, still keeping those dark-brown orbs fixated on her. She flashed him a reassuring smile as she propped herself up on her elbow.

"I want to get to know you a little better."

"What's there to know?"

"Hmm," she mused before arriving at a question. "When's your birthday?"

He gave her an odd look before answering, "August twenty-seventh."

"Cool. Mine's on tenth July."

So he's a Virgo, huh? She wondered if she should tell him that Cancers and Virgos made a perfect match. Maybe, maybe not.

"Alright, your turn to ask, Jin."

His gaze once again wandered over to the glimmering lake.

"Favourite colour."

"Red, pink, purple, orange, yellow, and blue."

_Was that a smile? _

"I meant, pick _one_."

"You never _said_ so."

"Fine."

She tickled his chin with a grass-stalk. "And what's your favourite?"

He flicked it away before replying, "Green."

"Really? I've never seen you wear green."

"Unlike some people, I know what looks good on me."

"Are you talking about me?" Christie punctuated this with a playful push.

"No. I meant guys like Lei and Steve."

This remark set off the Brazilian girl in a spate of giggles. "I'll be sure to mention that the next time I see them."

"Go ahead. Pink shirts and red trousers will always look gay, no matter what the trend."

The giggles multiplied into all-out laughter. "_God_, Jin! You're so mean."

"Apparently so."

She lay back on the grass, grinning. "See? You aren't as boring as everyone thinks after all."

* * *

A cloud momentarily blocked their view of the sun. If you turned your head to the right, it looked like a cute, fluffy sheep. On the other hand, it resembled a long, wispy Chinese dragon from the left. A sheep in dragon's clothing? Or was it the other way around?

"Jin?"

"Hm?"

"When you were a kid, what did you want to be when you grew up?"

"An adult."

"Haha, very funny. Be serious. You know, like you usually are?"

The spiky-haired man slowly sat up. She recognized that look. The look of loss. Of regret.

"It's okay. Forget I – "

"A gardener."

"Gardener?"

"Plant my own trees and vegetables. Live in peace. That sort of thing." He'd ended too abruptly.

"What about a family? Did you want kids or anything?"

Her gaze met his.

"Christie, are you trying to tell me something?"

She shook her head nonchalantly. "No, I'm not pregnant and I don't want a surprise marriage proposal."

A reddish hue stained his face. She couldn't help but feel something tug at her heartstrings at that moment.

"When I was a little girl, I wanted to be a singer. Just like those on TV. Then, I realized I couldn't sing."

She could have sworn she heard a chuckle.

"Then when I turned fifteen, I took up modeling."

"You modeled? Why'd you stop?"

"I got tired of pervy photographers trying to get me into their beds."

Jin felt a sudden pang of jealousy. "Good enough…"

Christie leaned over to him expectantly. "Why? Would you have been jealous?"

_Bingo._

He treaded hesitantly. "…Yes. And concerned. And…"

_Come on, come on._

"… I would never have met you."

Her breath caught in her throat. It resulted in a cough. How embarrassing…

One important question still remained.

"What if… things had been different."

It came out as a statement. What if he had been an ordinary man? What if they had met under more… _normal _circumstances? What if the Devil gene had never had never come into existence? Would they still be lying down here, on a grassy bank, near a sun-dappled lake, talking as if these things_ could_ have been so?

Their pasts are complicated and painful. Their futures are distant and uncertain.

But what they have is 'now'. A series of 'nows', sweet and untainted. And in time, those 'nows' would become cherished memories and distant daydreams. Remember the good times, leave out the rest. Remember laughter, remember light, remember hope, and most importantly, remember love.

They both knew that. They just didn't want to waste time dwelling on it. Seemingly small, minute matters that others took for granted.

"Don't think about it." He whispered as he took her hand and pulled her closer.

Another daydream to live out.


	8. Echoes

**Author's note:** Yeah, finale! Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed, hopefully we'll be seeing more Jin/Christie fics on this site in the future. Although, given the current popularity level of Xiaoyin, I highly doubt it. (Sniffs). Oh well, with a new installment comes a new couple so watch out for that.

**8. Echoes**

_Two weeks away, feels like the whole world should have changed_

_But I'm home now, and things still look the same_

_I think I'll leave it till tomorrow to unpack, try to forget for one more night _

_That I'm back in my flat _

_On the road where the cars never stop going through the night_

_To a life where I can't watch the sunset, I don't have time, I don't have time_

_I've still got sand in my shoes and __**I can't shake the thought of you**_

_I should get on, forget you, __**but why would I want to?**_

_I know we said goodbye, anything else would have been confused_

_**But I want to see you again.**_

- Sand in my shoes, Dido

* * *

Sun rising. Cockerels crowing. School-children shouting. Police sirens blaring. Car tires screeching.

A new day dawned.

And she lay there listening.

She couldn't hear the noise. But the echoes were loud in her ear.

That dreaded day had come.

When all their memories had been siphoned down to nothing but echoes of the past.

Hollow echoes of bliss. What could be more sweet or painful?

She wanted to smile for his sake.

She wanted to cry for his sake.

In the end, she did neither.

* * *

It took considerable effort on her part to finally part ways with the comforting softness of the blankets on her bed. By means of muscle memorization, her legs carried her to the bath-room. The water was cold and numb on her skin. It pooled in the cup of her hands and began to leak out.

It reminded her of the dreams and promises they'd once held on to.

She let go of them, watching the water as it splashed against the floor of the shower. Shattered to droplets of nothingness.

She didn't cry. No, not a tear.

He wouldn't have wanted her to do that.

She turned off the water and rubbed herself dry.

It chafed her heart as she did so.

Breakfast lay ignored in the fridge.

* * *

Every morning, she performed the same routine.

Leave the apartment, unlock the padlock on her bicycle, and ride through the litter-strewn streets of her home-town (although it was officially classified as a city). She kept on going until she could see the horizontal blue stretch of sea in the distance. At this point, she'd hop off the cycle, lean it against an ancient wrought-iron gate, lock it, and walk briskly to the beach.

The pale beige sands were usually covered by the infamous beach-goers native to Brazil. The men, well-muscled, in taut swim-trunks. The women, in varying degrees of nudity, their skin glowing in their natural gold-tinted hues. Once upon a time, she used to be one of them. Relaxed, not a care in the world,…

Those days were long gone. Like dust in the wind.

She'd ignore them as she made her way to a place only she knew of. A little cove of sorts, opening out into the ocean. Here she would stay, alone to drown in her own thoughts.

Christie had come to fall in love with solitude. Because it was so unlike her.

And very like him.

She'd go through life like she normally would. With a smile on her lips and spring in her steps. The disguise she put on to fool the masses. Even she had to admit she was a good actress at times. Over time, she'd gotten used to it.

But a mask impairs the ability to breathe. Layers of armor leave you to suffocate.

She had to admit that a part of her had died.

She did this whenever she watched the tropical sun descend into the deep, blue expanse.

Flowers wither without water. Just like she would without him.

She thought about this as she buried her head in her hands.

* * *

Someone had thrown a little cardboard matchbox off the pier.

Her grandfather had told stories about the tiny fishing trawlers at sea. Even during the most violent storms known to man, these tiny boats would always stay upright whilst the titanic ships would sink to a watery grave. The matchbox continued to bob bravely amongst the waves. Drifting away, further away …

The cycle gave an ominous creak as she parked it a few metres away from her door-step. She made a mental note to oil it the next day.

She couldn't help but feel a twinge of pity when she caught sight of the homeless man sitting on the curb. However, she also had to be on guard in case he turned violent. She began her careful journey home.

That jacket seemed awfully familiar.

She immediately reached out to him.

It was Jin Kazama who slumped backwards into her arms.

* * *

The bruises were turning purple. She'd taken off his sweaty and blood-soaked t-shirt to reveal a healing vertical stab wound. He winced silently as she cleansed it with an anti-bacterial solution.

They hadn't said a word to each other.

The soup was starting to boil.

"I thought you died."

He answered with his usual silence.

"Six months, Jin. Six months of not knowing anything."

The anger melted to pain when he still didn't acknowledge her. She stalked off to the kitchen to take the pan off the stove. As she slammed it onto the counter, the long-awaited tears sprang. It didn't help that he was suddenly behind her, his arms wrapped around her waist.

"Christie – "

"DON'T TOUCH ME!"

She shoved him away, her eyes streaming. In her attempt to flee, she tripped over her own feet and tumbled into an ungraceful heap on the floor. By then, she was sobbing too hard to get up. He sank down beside her.

"Christie,…"

"Don't…"

"I'm sorry."

Two words. Two stupid, insignificant words.

She needed to hear three. Just three.

"Jin."

She savored his name as he gathered her into his arms. "Jin, Jin,…"

She needed to know.

"Why? Why me?" she whispered into him. "Why?"

Did he have to reply? They were already in too deep. It was cold and dark. Deep, deeper, deeper. She felt scared yet she had never been more sure of anything in her whole life than of what she was feeling now. She just needed to know if he did too.

"Love." His voice was slightly muffled by her hair. "That's the only reason I can think of."

He didn't think it. He _felt _it.

Because love cannot be explained by the mind. It can only be experienced by the heart. They felt it. Each and every wave crashing down in its own beautiful destructive symphony. Pulling them in further away from the shore. Mysterious and deep.

Like the ocean.


End file.
